


Ineffable Ocean

by corgifeathers



Series: Ocean's Omens [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Lucifer (TV), Ocean's Eleven Trilogy (Movies)
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Heist, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Light Angst, Multiple Crossovers, Rescue Missions, Revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:14:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22707538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corgifeathers/pseuds/corgifeathers
Summary: Danny's number one rule was no one got hurt. Now someone has, and he has to fix it. He never believed in pure luck, but he might have to start considering Divine Intervention.Takes place after Ocean's 13. Crossover with Lucifer and Good Omens.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Danny Ocean & Rusty Ryan, Danny Ocean & Terry Benedict
Series: Ocean's Omens [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1857361
Comments: 2
Kudos: 40





	Ineffable Ocean

**Author's Note:**

> It's the Ocean's 11/Lucifer/Good Omens fic no one asked for! This started as a what-if scenario of Danny having to go to Lucifer for something, and it just escalated from there. This is a oneshot. I tried to keep it as short and to the point as possible.

For the second time, Danny found himself standing outside this particular nightclub. He stood on a sidewalk in the middle of Los Angeles, staring up at the sleek letters spelling out _LUX_. For the second time, he found himself walking through the doors, his ears being assaulted by the loud music. He moved down the stairs to the main lounge level, sitting at a booth. The same woman that was working the bar last time spotted him and disappeared behind the counter. Danny lost sight of her. He knew where she went.

Danny waited. He watched the various dancers in the low club light. He blended in surprisingly well with the other patrons. Though, his reason for being there was very much the opposite of pleasure.

He was worried.

Anyone else in the same room with him would never guess it, but he was quite worried.

Rusty had suggested this place to help him solve his current problem. Had mentioned something about the owner granting people's wishes and dishing out favors at no monetary cost. The wishing part felt a little strange to Danny. He didn't believe in superstitions, he only knew how to exploit them. But he had exhausted all other resources. He was desperate.  
  
"Well, if it isn't Mr. Prince of Thieves himself again!"  
  
Danny turned at the voice, temporarily pulled out of his thoughts. He inwardly cringed. This club owner was loud and boisterous, and didn't seem to care who heard him, regardless how it affected his clients.  
  
"Mr. Morningstar," Danny greeted, standing up to shake the other's hand.  
  
"Please, I told you to call me Lucifer."  
  
Danny sat back down as Lucifer joined him at the booth.  
  
"I take it this means you got my call?" Lucifer grinned at him.  
  
"I did," Danny replied, going into full business mode. He had no time to waste. "So, have you heard anything?"  
  
"Oh, I've done more than hear," Lucifer smiled. "I've found what you're looking for."  
  
"You did?"  
  
"Yes, it was quite easy to track down, or I should say, _he_ was quite easy to track down."  
  
Danny narrowed his eyes. "Where is he?"  
  
"Before I tell you, I want to make sure you understand the conditions of this agreement," Lucifer said in a slightly more serious tone, taking a sip from his drink.

"I owe you a favor for you providing me with this one. I get it." Danny tried to keep his own tone in check. "My services are yours."

Lucifer grinned at him again, and this time Danny thought he saw a glint of a very inhuman fang in the low light. "Splendid! You will find your man in London. I will send the address to your phone. He's being kept at a lousy establishment they have the audacity to call a nightclub."

"Some kind of front?"

"Yes, for human-trafficking," Lucifer scoffed.

Danny nodded in solemn agreement. "I know, it's sad."

Lucifer's brow furrowed. "That's not even the worst part. The music they play there is completely tasteless!"

Danny frowned at the statement. This guy had some interesting priorities. But he couldn't worry about that right now. "And you're sure this info is correct?"  
  
"Oh my dear boy, would I ever lie to you? I estimate you have about forty-eight hours before he’s moved again and you’ll have to start over."

Would he lie to him? Danny had to take the chance. "Well, thank you, Lucifer. Seems everything I've heard about you is right. You're a miracle worker." Danny stood up to leave, offering his hand in thanks.

Lucifer grinned at him. "You have no idea, Daniel." He stood as well, but did not yet take the other's hand. "Although, I need to add one more thing. This establishment is in possession of an antique statue that's very important to me. If you would be so kind to...pick it up for me?"

Danny stared at him suspiciously. "Does this mean you're calling in that favor already?"

"No, no! That will come later when I decide what I need from you. Consider this a paying job, since I am willing to compensate you for the extra trouble. I mean, you are making the trip, so why not? Am I right?"

Something deep, deep down in Danny told him to decline. Something primal. But he couldn't risk not getting the address and details of the nightclub if Lucifer decided to rescind the information. Danny drew in a deep breath, knowing he was short on time. "Alright, I'll get it for you and you will compensate me and my team for it. Do we have a deal?"

Lucifer's eyes darkened quite happily. "I believe we do, Daniel!"

Lucifer reached out and took the offered hand, binding Danny to him in a way the human could never possibly understand.

***

It was a simple enough task. Cut the power to the street, draw out the guards with a distraction, get out the back, drive away to safety.  
  
That was the plan. He wouldn't even need his full crew. Which was fortunate, because he could only take three with him. Basher, Turk, and Virgil. The others would remain in the States, taking care of _another_ problem related to this one.

Lucifer had provided all the information necessary for the job to be done. Danny had received confirmation that the target was indeed being held in the false nightclub establishment. That confirmation came in the form of a photo, a rather disturbing photo, of the person he was looking for.

Danny opened his phone again as he waited at the plane terminal. He whispered under his breath. "What have they done to you, Terry?"

There on his phone screen was Terry Benedict, his once enemy turned sort-of ally. That alliance was the reason the proud businessman was bound to a chair in a dark room in a foreign country, head drooped and blood spatter on his shirt.

Of everyone in the world to fall to a kidnapping, Terry was the last on the list. At least he had been in Danny's mind.

But it was more than just a kidnapping. It was a straight up hostile takeover. The alliance between thief and tycoon had been enough to enrage one very particular hotel kingpin with his own resort just down the Strip from Terry's. Willy Bank. Bank had lost billions in their scam, and he didn't take it too lightly.

Danny knew better than to underestimate him. He knew Bank would seek out some kind of revenge eventually. However, the fact that he took it out solely on Terry Benedict was a complete blindside.

Danny remembered receiving the phone call from Reuben. He said Terry had taken a sudden leave of absence out of the country, for supposed health reasons. As a result, his three casinos, the Bellagio, the Mirage, and the MGM Grand had been left in the tender care of his new business partner, Willy Bank. The plot was ridiculous. Danny didn't buy it one bit. Neither did Reuben. Neither did anyone.

At first, he had feared the worst, until some insurance papers discreetly surfaced at Reuben's villa. The documents dictated that _every single one_ of Terry's assets would go to Bank if the other failed to return or suddenly became deceased. The documents, however, also required authorization from both parties. Only Bank's signature was on them. That's when Danny knew Terry was still alive. Bank needed him for his signature.

The thought of just walking away did cross Danny’s mind. He could not deny that. It was quickly silenced though. Terry had helped him and his crew out of a bind when he had absolutely no reason to. Well, except to see Bank squirm. Danny would not forget that.

Did he feel guilty about Terry getting hurt because of his own insane scam to rob billions from Bank? He didn't want to answer that out loud. He already knew. He was sitting in the plane terminal preparing to fly to London.

He closed the picture on his phone and texted Rusty, his closest partner and only person in existence he would dare call a best friend. He asked how things were going, and waited for a response. Rusty was busy with the rest of the team making sure Bank's puppets didn't screw up Terry's three casinos in Vegas too badly.

The phone beeped as a message came through.

_Having fun. Will have the rats out of the office by Monday. Just like the old days! LOL!!!_

A slew of emojis came after the message. They made absolutely no sense in the context of the message and Danny could just picture Rusty in his mind hitting random icons just because he thought they looked neat.

Well, at least someone was enjoying themselves. He shoved his phone back in his coat pocket.

"Bad news?"

Danny looked up at the man sitting across from him, who had spoken. A golden cross pendant hung around his neck.

The man smiled gently. "I apologize. You just seem a little stressed. My name is Amenadiel."

"Interesting name," Danny replied. "I'm Daniel."

"It's an old family name. I'm a pastor. I'm doing missionary work in Europe. How about you? Going on vacation?"

Danny forced a fake smile, which was fairly easy for him, even under dire circumstances. "Just on business in London. I won't be there long."

"Well, remember not to work too hard. Take time to enjoy the things God has placed on this Earth."

"I'm not sure I believe in God," Danny said without blinking.

Amenadiel gave a friendly laugh. "That's not for me to make you believe. We all have to decide for ourselves where our faith should go."

Danny continued to stare at him. "How do we decide that?"

"It comes from inside, mostly. But I like to tell my congregation there's little clues here and there, hidden throughout life. If you hold true to your heart, you will see them easier."

Danny nodded his head. His flight was being called for boarding. "Is that so? Well," he said, standing up and straightening his coat. "I'll try to keep that in mind. Pleasure to meet you, Pastor."

Amenadiel smiled at him as he walked away. “Take care, son.”

***

Lucifer was right. This club was lousy. Even with their limited numbers, Danny felt they might be a little over-prepared. It seemed Bank invested more in his own personal resorts than secondhand business fronts run by a bunch of grunts. At least Terry was smart enough to hire respectable looking thugs.

Well, it would make their job easier.

Danny waited in the shadows on the roof of the building next door. It was raining, but not hard enough to make it difficult to see. He watched the crowd at the front of the club as well as the empty back alley that would provide their escape route. Basher was down the street sabotaging a transformer pole to blow the power to the entire block. Once the lights went out, the twins would start a bar fight inside to draw attention from the guards and bouncer. Then Danny would move in from the roof, sneak into the backroom of the club, get Terry out, and grab Lucifer’s statue.  
  
Simple. Quick. Clean.  
  
Then all of them would be on a flight back home the next day.

Danny was invisible on the roof, dressed completely in black. His ear wig crackled to life and he heard Basher's voice on the other end. "You ready, Chief?"

"Ready," Danny replied.

The air suddenly fizzed as a bright light flashed a mile away, and the street went dark.

***

Inside, the club was a flurry of confusion. He could hear Turk and Virgil’s loud, obnoxious voices screaming over each, pulling anyone they could into their staged fight. Every available guard was called to the lounge floor to try to restore order among the crowd.

Danny moved silently down the halls in the back of the club. Lucifer had provided him with the info on which room Terry was being held in and its specific location. He approached the door, pressing his ear against it before picking the lock and carefully opening it.

The door opened and Danny switched on a small flashlight, scanning the room. The light fell on a chair and Danny's heart sunk a little recognizing it from the photo. It was empty. Wild panic nearly overtook him until he heard a sound come from a corner of the room. He moved the light.

Terry was sitting on the floor. He was no longer tied to the chair. His head was leaning against the wall, eyes shut, unaware of his visitor’s presence.

Danny rushed to him, shaking him gently by the shoulder. "Terry!" He kept his voice low. "It's me!"

He turned Terry's head slowly away from the wall. Eyes flickered open, straining in the dark. "Ocean...?"

His voice was weak, dry. Danny produced a small bottle from his pack. He held it to the other's mouth. "Here, water." He let Terry drink while he moved the flashlight over his torso. His shirt was stained with dried blood, a particularly large patch covering his lower left side. Danny couldn't make out the wound in the dark. His left arm hung limp, broken. How convenient, Danny thought. Terry’s dominant hand remained untouched.

His mind was in full job mode. He paid attention to every sound, vibration, and smell around him while simultaneously counting down the seconds. The fight was still going strong out front, but the power would come back on soon. They needed to make their escape immediately. "I'm here to get you out, Terry. Can you stand?"

Terry nodded. The small amount of water had given him a little bit of strength.

"Let's go, put your arm around me." Danny got him into position and carefully lifted him up. He was somewhat relieved when Terry kept his weight on his own legs.

They moved carefully out of the room and then slowly down the hall to a utility door at the back of the building. Lights started to flicker on again. Near the exit point was an office. Danny glanced in its direction as they passed. There, on a small pedestal behind a desk was a white dove statue.

He needed to at least get Terry outside the door. Then he could run back in and take the statue. It was what he was being paid for.

Although, he could feel Terry's strength begin to fail. He was the priority right now. The statue would have to wait a little longer.

They made it out the door into the back alley and the rain. Danny mentally counted their steps. They needed to get one hundred feet down the alley and around a corner in order to be out of sight. That was also the pick-up point. The twins should have got themselves thrown out of the club by now and were making the rendezvous with Basher and the getaway van.  
  
Danny glanced over his shoulder to make sure no one was following them. He was at eighty steps. "Almost there, just hold on a little bit," he grunted, hoisting up as much of the other as he could.

They made it to the bend in the alley. Streetlights once again faintly illuminated the spaces between the buildings. "We're here. We just have to wait now."

Danny looked to the side when he didn't get a response. Terry's full weight suddenly pulled him down. His feet slipped on the slick pavement and they both fell as he lost all balance. Danny rolled Terry over on his back, searching frantically for his flashlight. 

He shone the light over Terry's body and his eyes widened. Fresh blood seeped in the shirt. The wound on his left side had reopened. Danny quickly pulled gauze patches out of his bag. He tore the shirt apart and his hands froze at the sight.

The skin was dark blue and purple underneath, all across the stomach. Something had ruptured. He was bleeding internally.

It appeared Bank’s questionable hired help got a little too carried away in torturing his rival.

Danny put pressure on the open wound as best he could but it wouldn't help much. The worst damage was on the inside, where Danny couldn't reach. He patted at Terry's face, trying to get a sign of life. "Terry! HEY! Don't give up on me! We’re almost out of here!"

His eyes flitted open for a moment, staring up at Danny with a blank look, before rolling into the back of his head.

"TERRY!"

Danny lifted his head under one arm, placing a palm near his neck, keeping track of his pulse. It was weak.

The rain kept on falling. He waited for the pick-up. The others were still four minutes away...

The pulse dropped by another beat.

He mentally cursed himself. He should have seen the signs sooner. He should have been able to get to Terry faster. This should never have happened in the first place.

His number one rule was no one on his crew got hurt.

He had never lost a man on a job before.

Danny lowered his head, resting his chin on Terry's forehead. He attempted to keep the pained expression from crossing his face. A slow breath came from Terry's throat.

Danny tightened his grip on him. "I'm sorry." He didn't want to say those words but they came out anyway.

Recovering the statue was forgotten. He waited in silence. The rain pattered on.

"You shouldn't feel sorry."

Danny looked up at the voice, startled. A man in a white suit was standing in the alley with them. Danny narrowed his eyes. No one outside of the crew was supposed to know where the pick-up point was.

"Who are you?" he demanded, and winced at the choked sound of his voice.

The man spoke with an American accent. "You can call me Gabriel. I'm a friend."

Danny squinted at him. Gabriel appeared to be completely dry in the rain. It was a trick of the light. At least that's the best his frazzled mind could come up with.

He drew in a sharp breath. "What do you want?"

"Nothing," Gabriel smiled. "You risked a lot to save this man."

"You know Terry?" Danny raised an eyebrow.

"I know everyone. I also know many would question whether this man was worth saving in the first place. Yet you still did."

Danny scowled. "It doesn't matter why I did what I did. Terry is dying right here in my arms and...there's nothing I can do about it..."

"Except you always prepare for everything."

"BUT IT SHOULDN'T HAVE HAPPENED!" Danny shouted angrily. "This should never have happened..."

He could feel the pulse weaken again as the minutes ticked away. Terry wasn't going to make it. Not at this rate.

Danny heard footsteps draw closer to him. Gabriel was standing closer to him now.

"What do you want? You're obviously not here to help." Danny looked up, hoping the rain would hide the tear that slid down his face. He finally noticed the odd purple color of the stranger's eyes.

Gabriel smiled at him in a weird, gentle way. "I'm here because of you. I knew you were going to be here. I knew your friend would need help."

Danny shook his head, the hopelessness he was barely containing inside finally breaking free. The same gut feeling he'd had with Lucifer returned, except now it was telling him to trust with everything he had. His voice broke. "Please help me..."

Gabriel tilted his head to the side, as if considering the man's plea.

Danny shook. “I don't want him to die...”

Gabriel then waved his hand in a very nonchalant manner. "Your associates will be here soon. You really are one of the best, Daniel Ocean."

Danny frowned, trying to make sense of the words. He didn't have much time to think about it as a rough gasp from Terry snapped his attention away.

Terry breathed in and out, his eyes open by just a fraction.

Danny checked his pulse and found it was miraculously steady again. "Terry!? Hey, hey look at me!" His arms fumbled around the other man, trying to lift him up and look him in the eyes. "Look at me! It's ok! You're ok..."

Terry stared at him, the smallest look of acknowledgement reaching Danny.

Tires screeched at the end of the alley as a white van came to a halt.

Danny didn't know what just happened to cause Terry to suddenly jolt back to life. His mind was racing a million miles a second. He looked up at Gabriel to search for some kind of answer.

He frowned when he realized Gabriel was gone.

***

By morning the rain had cleared out. Danny watched the street below from their hotel room. All of the team was together. Basher was fiddling with his phone while Turk and Virgil played cards at the small table in the corner, constantly bickering quietly. Terry slept on one of the beds, all of his wounds neatly dressed, his left arm wrapped in a sling.

The lot of them would remain there until they could catch their flight back home later in the afternoon.

Danny didn't understand it. Terry had been seconds from death in the alley last night. Now, he was having a light nap after eating breakfast with the rest of them, completely fine except for the arm and some superficial damage.

The only explanation Danny could come up with was that his mind had tricked him in the rain. That the lack of light and moisture in his eyes made him believe Terry was suffering internal bleeding and was slipping away right in front of him. That his sense of urgency made him lose his focus.

That was the only logical explanation. People don't just spring back to life.

Danny also didn't just lose his focus. He was not a rookie.

He glanced at Terry laying on the bed. His chest was rising and falling slowly as he slept. He was alive and well.

Danny looked away, watching the street again. He was eager to get back home and talk to Rusty. Rusty always stayed grounded. He could trust him to help get the facts straight. If he believed Danny at all in the first place, that is. Danny still wasn't sure he could believe it himself.

He should be hearing from Rusty soon anyway.

His phone beeped.

Speak of the devil, he thought.

He looked at the message. It wasn't from Rusty. It was a text that came from an unknown number. He opened it to read.

_Go to this address before you leave the country – Gabriel_

Danny glowered at the message. It was an address he was unfamiliar with. He still didn't know who this Gabriel was or how he had disappeared so quickly. Until now, Danny had considered maybe he'd just imagined the man in a broken state of mind. He was apparently real, though. And he had Danny's personal number.

He pulled away from the window, picking up his jacket. Basher lifted his head at the sudden movement. "Where are you going?"

"I have one last thing to do before we leave. Watch him," Danny said, gesturing to Terry.

Turk scoffed at him. "What? So we're babysitters now?"

"I won't be long." With that, Danny left.

***

The address was in Soho. Danny found himself in front of an old looking bookshop. The letters _A. Z. FELL & CO_ were displayed proudly over the entrance. He stepped inside.

The interior of the shop seemed much, much bigger than the outside led him to believe. There were cases and endless shelves of antique books in every direction. He wandered into the inner circle of the shop, surrounded by four large marble pillars. He tilted his head, gazing wondrously at the upper levels.

"May I help you find something, sir?"

Danny snapped back to reality after becoming temporarily lost in the atmosphere of the bookshop. A friendly looking gentleman with white hair was standing beside him, waiting patiently for his response.

Danny awkwardly cleared his throat. "Uh no, I'm just browsing."

“Oh! Well, if you’re visiting from America, may I suggest a few items over in this section?”

The man led him to a dimly lit corner of the shop. Danny hesitated for a second as he was led to a reading room behind a large shelf. The man turned and smiled at him softly. Something inside Danny told him to _just_ _follow, it would be ok._

Danny went further into the interior of the shop, his view of the street through the windows disappearing. His eyes were instead drawn to a small table with a box on it.

The man went to the table. “This here is something I believe will benefit you greatly.” He opened the box, carefully removing a white dove statue, setting it on the table.

Danny’s breath hitched in his chest. “How did you get that!?”

“Oh, don’t be alarmed,” the man smiled. “Let’s just say we have a mutual interest in this statue. It is a rare find. I needed to photograph it and catalogue it for future reference.”

“Why do you have it?” Danny asked, narrowing his eyes.

“My friend told me you were a little preoccupied last night and didn’t have the time to procure it.”

“Your friend, _Gabriel?_ How did he know I needed it?”

The man grinned at him. “Just like you, we have our ways of knowing things. Please, take it.”

Danny walked closer and studied the statue. It was authentic. It was the exact one he saw last night and the one Lucifer told him to grab. “You’re just giving it to me?”

“Yes. I know it will help you some way, otherwise you not be so interested in it. I’ve already got what I needed from it, so it is now yours to take.”

Danny gingerly placed the dove statue back into its box. Well, this would be just another thing to tell Rusty about. “I guess I should thank you, Mr.?”

“You may call me Mr. Fell. I give you my warmest regards in your journey, Mr. Ocean.”

***

The noise of the plane engines was soothing, helping to ease Danny's mind a little bit. It felt like he was being carried away from a very strange dream as they glided west over the Atlantic.

Terry sat next to him in the window seat, staring out at the clouds floating above the water. Basher was a few rows in front, the twins a few rows behind. The team liked to stay spread apart, maintaining a better watch of their surroundings.

Danny kept close to Terry, refusing to leave his side until they were in Las Vegas. Terry even barked at him about it, very confused as to why Danny seemed so clingy. Danny apologized. He couldn't just explain it to him. He was still mentally reeling from watching Terry almost die to mysteriously recovering. He couldn't help it if he was feeling a little paranoid that Terry might lapse back into a near death state.

They were stuck with each other for the duration of the flight.

Danny really wanted to rest though. He hadn't got any sleep since arriving in London. Too many weird things happened. He found it extremely hard to wind down. Except for now on this flight back home. His eyes finally started drifting shut...then shot back open as he heard a long sigh come from Terry.

"How am I going to recover from this?"

Terry sounded as tired as Danny felt.

Danny turned his head, facing the other. "It won't be all bad," he said. "Rusty and Reuben have been keeping watch over your casinos. They've managed to kick out all of Bank's cronies before too much damage could be done. Losses will be minimal."

Terry kept his gaze outside the window. He was silent. Danny had never seen such a miserable look on his face before.

"You're Terry Benedict. After all this, Bank will know to keep his distance from you." Danny paused, and gave a light chuckle. "Actually, I hope I get to see his face when he sees you back at the Bellagio."

Terry smirked at the thought, a small, quiet laugh escaping him. He continued to stare out at the ocean.

Danny let his eyes fall shut once more, ready to sleep the entire seven hours to the States.

"Thanks for coming to get me."

Other than the multiple death threats, those were the most sincere words Terry had ever spoken to him. Danny would take it.

"You're welcome."

***

Any staff that passed Terry Benedict in the halls of the Bellagio offices were completely oblivious to what the man endured over the last few weeks. He had his usual piercing gaze, head held high, and shoulders rigid as he stalked down the hall. As far as anyone was concerned, Benedict had recovered from his unexpected illness and was back at work, ambitious and commanding as ever, eager to continue running the three most successful casinos on the Strip. The only thing different was the sling on his arm, which had been the result of an unfortunate fender bender overseas.

Terry received reports of the hotels' daily activities from his manager, Walsh, who Terry observed was extremely happy to see him. In fact, the man seemed downright relieved that he was alive. He would later learn that Walsh had agreed to cooperate with Ocean's crew in throwing out Bank's business people.

Terry approached his office door, finally shaking off Walsh, ordering him to go do something important. He didn't understand why everyone was being so clingy towards him. He just wanted to get back to work and be left alone while he assessed the damage Bank had caused.

He reached for the door handle with his free hand, and paused. A wave of... _something_ rushed over him. His last clear memory before his whole kidnapping ordeal was standing in his office, looking out over the city and the dry mountains beyond it. Danny suspected he had been drugged somehow, probably right there in his own domain.

Terry shook off the feeling, opening the door.

The office was as neat as he normally kept it. Nothing appeared to be amiss. Except for his chair. Someone was sitting in his chair, back turned.

Before Terry could say anything, the chaired wheeled around. A slender young man with dark sunglasses and fiery red hair greeted him. "Ah, Terry! Good to see you made it back in one piece!"

Terry narrowed his eyes. "Who the hell are you?"

"Call me Anthony," the other replied, flashing his pointed teeth with a grin. "You know, this a nice place you got here. A little gaudy, but classy."

"What do you want?"

"Seems to me this casino could be even more successful if you really made the effort." Anthony swiveled in the chair, a small smirk on his face.

"I don't need business advice from you, _Anthony_ ," Terry said, a hint of a threat lacing his calm tone.

Anthony reached into his black coat, and for a moment Terry froze at the action. He pulled out a harmless white envelope. "No, you don't need advice from anyone, especially me. You know how to run your casinos. Better than most I'd bet. You know the game."

Anthony tilted his head down at him, and Terry thought he saw an unnatural golden color to the man's eyes behind the sunglasses.

Anthony continued, waving the envelope around in his hand, "Which is why it'd be a shame if you didn't play the game back with those that have wronged you."

He let the envelope slip out of his hand. It landed gently on the desk, like a loose feather coming to rest.

"It would also be very careless of me to lose a very important envelope, whose contents held the key to bankrupting several prestigious properties owned by a Mr. Willy Bank.”

Terry regarded the envelope on his desk. He then turned his gaze on the man. He spoke with a low, composed voice that could rival Beelzebub's own when they were annoyed. "Get out of my chair."

Anthony did as he was told, leaving the envelope where it lay. He sauntered past Terry. "You're the boss. Ciao, Terry."

Terry watched him go from the corner of his eye. Once the door clicked shut, he went around his desk, sitting in his chair.

He lifted the envelope with his good hand.

***

Danny sat with Rusty at their favorite restaurant in Los Angeles. He had just finished delivering the dove package to Lucifer, and as promised, Danny now possessed a check for quite a large sum of money.

He couldn't figure out why the statue was so valuable to begin with. However it didn't really matter to him at this point. Danny got Terry back and Lucifer had got what he wanted. The transaction was closed.

Yet there was still so much Danny could not understand.

"What is it?"

And it was showing on his face.

He looked up at Rusty's inquiry, setting down his drink. "What?" he asked, knowing full well what his friend had meant.

"What's wrong? You've been quiet since I picked you up."

"I'm just tired. Long flight." Danny surprised himself. He was so eager to talk to Rusty about everything that happened, and now he couldn't find the words to do it.

"Something happened," Rusty said, staring him in the eye.

Rusty knew him well enough to know when something was wrong. He also was not going to let up until Danny told him about it.

"I can't explain it," Danny finally admitted, taking another long drink.

Rusty was adamant. "Explain what?"

Danny let out a long sigh. "Bank's people did a number on Terry. Enough so that he collapsed in the alley on me and was drawing what I thought would be his last breath. Then, this American man appears and Terry is suddenly fine again..."

"What man?"

"He called himself Gabriel. He said he knew why we were there, then just disappears." He waved his hand around to accentuate the point.

Rusty considered Danny's words for a minute. "You told me in a text it was raining. Maybe Terry's injuries weren't as bad as you thought and it just looked like it?"

"That was my first guess. It just doesn't feel right," Danny muttered. He leaned over the table, closer to Rusty's face. "I know what blood looks like and I know what internal bleeding looks like. I know what I saw."

He could see the wheels turning in Rusty's head, trying to come up with a logical explanation. At least Rusty appeared to believe him.

"You said the guy's name was Gabriel? Biblical name," Rusty stated, taking his own drink in his hand. "Maybe someone was looking out for him?"

Danny raised an eyebrow at him. "Really?"

"Or, they were looking out for you."

Danny pulled away from the table, leaning back in his seat. "I don't know," he said, his tone defeated.

"It doesn't matter, does it?" Rusty said, trying to assure him. "Bank's minions are out, the rightful king of the Strip has been restored, and you got paid. The job is done. No use in worrying about it."

Danny swirled the ice around in his drink. "I suppose so."

***

Aziraphale sat with Crowley on their usual bench in St. James Park. He held a small pair of dice, attached to a key ring, with the word _Bellagio_ printed in gold on them. It was a souvenir Crowley had brought him.

"I take it things went well?" he said, holding the dice up to the sun, watching the light filter through.

"As well as you can imagine," the demon replied lazily.

Aziraphale frowned. "I'm still quite unsure why both Heaven and Hell made such a fuss over assisting this Ocean human."

Crowley shrugged. "Eh, Beelzebub seems to think he's important for some reason. Lucifer sensed it too, that's why he wanted to establish his trust."

"And so did Gabriel then," Aziraphale thought.

Silence passed between them for awhile. They watched several ducks swimming around in circles in the pond.

Crowley perked up as he watched the birds. "What was inside the statue anyway?" he asked.

"A piece of papyrus," Aziraphale replied. "It had an ancient Sumerian inscription on it. Some kind of spell."

"Really?"

Aziraphale shook his head. "But not to worry. I safely removed it and sent it on its way with Gabriel. It's in Heaven's hands now."

Crowley gave a small laugh. "I imagine Lucifer won't be too pleased when he breaks the bird open and finds it empty. Luckily for him, he’s got a thief who owes him a favor.”

_End._


End file.
